


Love is.................

by Seele_Esser_Deutsch



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Hunk (Voltron) is a Good Friend, Hunk is hurting, Hunk-centric, Hurt Hunk, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Oblivious Lance (Voltron), Pining Hunk (Voltron), Sorry About It, Well - Freeform, no comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-02
Updated: 2018-03-02
Packaged: 2019-03-26 02:32:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13848228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seele_Esser_Deutsch/pseuds/Seele_Esser_Deutsch
Summary: Love letters are simple, your write them, you send them.Love is simple.But love can also be complicated. Love can hurt, especially when you've been waiting for the blow to strike.





	Love is.................

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Madame_Kiksters](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madame_Kiksters/gifts).



Hunk knew it would be hard, but he had no idea that it would be this painful. 

It was going to happen eventually, they all knew it. From the very first time Lance had finally swallowed his pride and thanked Keith everything had started to change. It was no longer ‘Hunk and Lance, best buddies and the terrible, pranking duo. Lance started to spend more time with Keith, training. At least, it wasn’t always just training, they’d sit in the rec room or in the kitchen and just talk. 

Hunk hated it, so instead he started to spend more time with Pidge. She never judged or probed or asked questions. They were comfortable together, they could joke and quip, whilst also knowing that they could speak out as intellectual equals. 

Perhaps Hunk should have just spoken up. If he had said something sooner, maybe if he had taken Lance aside and explained, things could have been different.

Love was a fickle thing, to some a friend. To Hunk it was a curse, an enemy…… a distraction.

It had been building up to this for months. Hunk thought he was ready, but just watching them walk into the kitchen, hand in hand and giddy looks on their face was enough to make Hunk nauseous. He thought he’d given himself time to prepare, but he hadnt. 

He’d tried to carry on for as long as he could, cooking and just nodding along, not really listening as they explained to the rest of the group that they’d been in a relationship for a while but they didn’t want to say anything until now. 

They were in love.

That was enough to tip Hunk over the edge. He flinched, so subtly that it would have been easily missed, if he hadn't accidentally knocked a pan with his hand. The metal scalded his knuckle, and he let out a cry of pain as the pan toppled and fell to the floor. 

Hunk wasn’t sure when the tears started to fall. He didn’t blame Lance or Keith either. The emotions alone, whilst raw, wouldn’t have been enough to make him cry. No, it was because his hand now started to sting where contact was made, and he’d spent nearly an hour perfecting that sauce just for it all to go to waste. 

He was aware of the silence, it hung thick and heavy in the air, more uncomfortable on his lungs than even the most humid air back home. Someone called out to him, but it didn’t register in his head as he turned on his heel and stormed out of the room. His breath was coming in short, ragged bursts, and his chest tightened. 

Lance was gone. He was in love, and he was so happy, but Hunk felt like he was dying. 

Somehow he managed to get back to his room without stumbling over his own feet or walking into a wall. The door closed behind him, and he ripped off his apron, throwing it to the floor as he stormed into the bathroom. 

Just one glimpse in the mirror was enough to send Hunk over the edge. His eyes were rimmed red, and his nose and cheeks were both flushed as well. Despite his blurry eyes Hunk could see himself better than he ever had before. That overbite, it made his face look wonky and wrong and gross. His cheeks were too chubby and his eyes were so dull. 

How could he ever compare to Keith? Beautiful, beautiful Keith, with his pale skin and bright, lilac eyes, his lean frame and perfect face. How was it possible for Hunk to even think he could have stood a chance? 

“Get out of my head!” He screamed suddenly as he brought his fist up, swinging like his life depended on it. A smash, then a crack and a crash, and everything came rushing back to clarity. The blood running down his fingers, shards of glass embedded in hands that were too big and awkward. His ring finger was broken, but who cared, because you didn’t need that for a gun. Only if you were handling a blade, like Keith.

With a sob Hunk fell to his knees. There was a crunch as he landed on the shattered glass, sharp edged tearing through fabric and then through skin, but Hunk didnt even care because the sting reminded him that he had to breathe. 

He curled in on himself, clutching his hands to his chest and trying to control his breathing. It was impossible, why was he even fooling himself? 

His chest was burning, and he could hardly breathe. What was the point of breathing now anyway? Maybe he should just curl up and cease to exist, and then Keith could pilot yellow, because of course Keith is so amazing and wonderful that he could just take her. 

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, Hunk could feel Yellow reaching out to him, trying to calm him down. Cub? Listen to me, my cub, my paladin, don’t do this, don’t shu-

The words meant nothing to Hunk. It was a garbled mess, and he couldn’t concentrate on what those sounds meant. He finally just let it out, screaming and wailing like a tortured soul as oxygen rushed back into his lungs. 

Why did this have to hurt so badly? Why did it feel like he was dying? 

“Lance. Please, Lance, I love you.” He screamed, but there was no one to hear. This wasn’t like home, there was no one banging on the door to see if he was okay, no one looking for him. He was in space, fighting a war that was too big for him. 

Hunk had never felt so alone. 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------

Billions of miles away, lying under a pillow, in the dorm room of two young boys who once had no cares in the world, was a letter. 

Dear Lance,

I wanted to tell you earlier, but I couldnt find the courage.

I love you. I’ve loved you since 6th grade, and I know you won’t love me back, but that’s okay. I’ll still love you anyway.

That’s what best friends are for.


End file.
